Of all the magazines I have explored, the one I will never again read is The New Yorker. It had so little substance that even Marie Claire magazine would be more profound.
For instance, in the September issue, there was a long article on the subversive collective Anonymous that has spread to many countries of the world (including Russia where the Russian Anonymouses have done some really cool stuff). One would think this is a subject even a very bad journalist can’t spoil. The New Yorker magazine, however, reduced the whole global movement to the boring story of some aging gentleman who is not even known to the movement’s activists worldwide. In fact, the global dimension of Anonymous hardly receives any attention in the article.
I did derive some value from the article on slavery in Mauritania that appeared in the same issue of The New Yorker but it has the same problem as the rest of the pieces: every phenomenon under discussion is reduced to the tear-jerking life story of an individual. There are never any conclusions. It’s all “here is a person with a story. Make what you will of it.”
Bye bye, New Yorker.
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